Sometimes enhanced hearing wasn't a blessing. Steve knew that all too well. From hearing… suspicious sounds from Sam's room to listening to Peter watching Star Wars for the third time that week, the soldier had heard it all. So when he heard Tony yelling at Peter, he couldn't help but feel bad for the kid. The yelling was ringing in his ears. He couldn't imagine how it felt for the kid.

"When I tell you to stand down, you stand down! Understand?" Peter's shoulders were slouched, his hands wrapping around his torso as his gaze pointed down. The boy had stopped trying to get a word in a while ago, as it only made his mentor even angrier. That's when Steve walked up to Tony, gripping his shoulder lightly.

"Tony, I think you should give the kid a break. He was trying to protect you after all," Though Steve's attempt to calm the situation only wound up the man even more.

"I can take care of myself, Rogers! I don't need a child wanting to play hero to help me!" As Tony's anger turned towards Steve, Peter took his leave. The boy walked towards the entrance of the compound, presumably to his room. Steve glared at Tony, who looked regretful despite his rage. "I'm going to check on him."

Steve cracked his neck as he walked toward the teenager's room. He loved his team, but they exhausted him.

"Friday? Can you turn on privacy mode, please?"

"Of course Peter."

Peter darted into his bathroom as the shutters on the windows closed and his door locked. Feeling a wave of vertigo going through his head, Peter gripped onto his sink, cracking off a part of the marble counter. He mumbled a few choice words as it reverberated on the tiles below, only missing his toe by an inch. He stared into the mirror, taking in the damage.

During the mission, he had pushed Tony away from a bomb. Despite the heroicness he portrayed, he was repaid with shrapnel being stuck in between his ribs and a furious mentor. He'd been having trouble breathing ever since he got onto the quinjet, but he was too embarrassed to tell Tony, knowing the man would just take it as another thing to get on his case about.

So here he was, debating whether to pull out the shrapnel. It could've punctured something major, and he could be dead any second now if he didn't get it out, or it could be the only thing keeping him alive. He needed to see a doctor, but he didn't want to run into Tony, and disappoint him again.

"Peter, Steve Rogers is requesting entrance to your room. He says that if you do not grant him entrance, he will come in by force."

Dammit, Peter thought, of course Steve would check on him. At least it wasn't Tony. Steve would help him, right?

"Let him in Fri," Peter heard the mechanical whoosh of the doors opening, followed by Steve's heavy footsteps. "Pete?" Peter sighed. There was no hiding it now.

Steve Rogers was well acquainted with the smell of blood. It smelled somewhat like rusting iron, stinging the inside of his nose when he'd smell it. So when he entered Peter's room to that familiar metallic smell, his heart pounded in his chest.

"Hey Cap." Peter mumbled, opening the bathroom door. As Steve saw Peter's wound, his eyes grew wide.

"What happened?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He walked Peter to the edge of the bathtub, helping him sit down. Peter felt a small sting in his chest before it returned to that aching drone the pain had taken on earlier. Steve was mumbling reassurances while he checked for other wounds. "Friday, call Bruce up here, please." The man tried to hide the shakiness in his voice, but it was no use.

"I'm sorry." Peter's sudden apology knocked Steve out of his focused assessment. "Why?" He asked. Peter shrugged, wincing a bit at the motion, "I didn't tell you. Didn't wanna be weak. Tony was already mad." The boy avoided his gaze, as if he was waiting for Steve to reprimand him.

Before Steve could begin his "You're not weak, you're important to the team" lecture, Bruce came into the room, "Friday said Peter was hurt." Steve nodded and moved out of Bruce's way.

"Hey Pete," Bruce said, a worried smile painting his face. He set the first aid kit on the toilet seat before inspecting Peter's wound. He tried to hide his frown from Peter, but the green tint gave his emotions away.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Bruce stayed silent for a moment before giving Peter a sympathetic look. "We need to get you to the medbay. The shrapnel may have punctured your lung and I can't check it out without medical equipment." The doctor stood, holding out a hand to help steady Peter. After Peter was standing -albeit leaning heavily on Steve- Bruce led them through the halls.

Steve fidgeted with the loose string on his shirt sleeve as he watched Bruce set a mask over Peter's face, the boy's eyes growing hazy before he succumbed to the medication.

"Friday, where is Tony?" Steve asked, not taking his eyes off of the nurses wheeling Peter into the operation room.

"Sir is currently in his lab. He is requesting no visitors at this moment," Steve clicked his tongue, turning away from the operation room. He knew Tony was throwing a fit right now, but he needed to know about Peter's situation.

So Steve knocked on the lab doors. Again. And again. Until finally, a voice spoke through the speaker beside the door, "What, Capsicle?"

"It's about Peter,"

"I don't need you lecturing me about how I treat the kid. He fucked up, so he'll-"

'He's in surgery right now." The blinking light that showed that Tony was listening went off before the doors of the lab opened. The man looked disheveled, scared. "What happened?"

Steve explained the situation as they walked towards the medbay, sparing a glance at Tony every so often. He wanted to stay angry at Tony, but he was never the type to hold a grudge. Especially since he knew that Tony was angrier at himself than anyone could be.

They were eventually stopped by a nurse, who told them that they couldn't be any closer. "The procedure is quite fragile, so we can't have anyone get in the way. I'm sorry," Tony just clenched his fist, his chewed nails scratching his palm.

"Fuck," Tony mumbles, walking over to one of the benches that lined the wall.

Steve was nodding off by the time Bruce approached Tony and him. "He's stable," the man said, giving Tony a moment to calm himself, knowing his kid was alright, "though my suspicions were correct. Shrapnel had punctured his lungs. We were able to extract it with little complications. He should be awake now. Follow me."

Tony lagged behind the two, despite being desperate to see Peter earlier. Bruce opened the door to Peter's room, walking in. Though Tony stayed behind, "What's wrong?" Steve asked in a hushed voice, although that would do nothing to stop Peter from hearing their conversation.

"I messed up. Real bad," Tony mumbled, crossing his arms, "Tony, that kid adores you. Now go see him," Steve pushed Tony's back, which was more of a shove, into the room.

"Hey," Peter mumbled, rolling his head towards Tony. The kid must've just woken up, as he looked to be groggy from the drugs. Tony took a seat by Peter's bedside, staying silent for a few moments.

"I'm sorry," He said, "I shouldn't have done that. Fuck, you were hurt and I just-" Peter took Tony's hand, "I forgive you," Tony let out a shaky breath, squeezing the boy's hand.

"Thank you, th-ank you," His voice cracked. Was he crying? Steve thought that was his cue to leave, sparing one last glance at the two. Peter had pulled Tony in for a hug, before whispering to Steve, "Thanks."

Maybe enhanced hearing wasn't a curse after all.